


Space and the Act of Moving On

by arewedancers



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, But also moving on, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:21:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arewedancers/pseuds/arewedancers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan loves Phil, tells Phil, Phil doesn't love him. Plot twist though, it doesn't end in Phil realizing that he does, rather Dan learns to be friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Space and the Act of Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> Hey thanks for reading this - I just thought it was interesting how many stories show one person loving another one and either not telling them, telling them being rejected but then it works out and they date, of they tell them get rejected and it ends dramatically on pain

Today was the day I had decided to do it - and by it I meant tell my best friend and flatmate, AmazingPhil, that my feelings had grown a lot less platonic over the past 6 years. I'm not particularly thrilled with the idea and given the fact that I'm only just waking up there's a chance I'll chicken out. It's been "the day" for the past 3 months with no progress on the matter. It wasn't until many friends all but told him themselves that I set a date and began to psych myself up for the big reveal. 

"I'm not so sure you should call it that..." PJ had said somewhat meekly the day I had called him up and told him to mark his calendars. "You have a tendency to use humor as a coping mechanism, maybe you should try taking this seriously." 

"It's fiiinneeee. I have a month to be as hilarious as I want to be." Absentmindedly I traced the words on the day, June 12th, while listening to PJ sigh and congratulate me on my, this part came very reluctantly, "big reveal." 

Well, it was June 12th and I had wasted the month; I resist the urge to burrow back into my bed and ignore the feeling sinking into my gut. I; however, have about 10 people with red circles in calendars across London who are all counting on a call from me by at least 12 tonight. 

Sitting up, rubbing my eyes, running my fingers through my hair, the same routine as every other morning. I brush my feet against the floor before sliding off and padding into the kitchen. Phil is sitting on the couch with our newest anime paused and a bowl of my cereal in his lap. He looks up when I come in and smiles brightly, my stomach turns and my face heats up so I duck my head down as I walk past. 

"There you are!" He chirps, "I was starting to think you'd sleep all day!" 

I laugh lightly in response and busy myself making cereal. Working on autopilot I grab a bowl, grab a spoon, grab some milk, and turn my box of cereal upside down. Only a few measly crumbs fall out.

"PHIL!" I yell, stomping back into the lounge. He looks up sheepishly as I huff out a sigh. "Did you really eat all of my cereal?" My hands fidget as I try to remain calm. My nerves are making me a bit more short tempered today and I can feel anger shifting just beneath the surface of my skin making me itch. Annoyance is leaking into my tone as Phil rattles off apologies and explanations that I barely register. "What am I supposed to eat, huh? You always do this, no matter how many times I ask you not too, you always do this! Do you not respect me? What's mine?" 

"No, it's not that - I just..." Phil begins to stammer with his hand up in a placating gesture like I'm some sort of animal. To be fair I am acting a bit like a Neanderthal or savage as I'm practically foaming at the mouth over a box of cereal that cost what, 2 pounds? "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, well no, actually there's something I need to tell you." Dropping onto the couch beside him I seem to physically deflate as all of the anger from before leaves replaced with a much lighter feeling. Well, the outer edges of me feel light, but my stomach feels like it's loaded with lead while my chest feels too tight to breath. 

With a face morphing from mild fear to full on concern Phil shuffles over and wraps his arms around me. He's always been a hugger and normally I wouldn't mind, normally I would find comfort and a pathetic amount of hope in the gesture. In just touching him at all. "What is it?" He murmurs into my shoulder; I cringe but ultimately resist the urge to pull away. 

I fiddle with the ends of my t-shirt, just noticing it was actually his, for a minute before taking a breath. "It's a bit difficult to say." I chuckle, sigh, and drop my head back onto the couch. Maybe the words will come easier if I'm staring at the ceiling, blank and white and nonjudgmental. Not that Phil has ever been known to be anything but accepting to me or to anyone else. His channel is practically built on the concept and idea of accepting yourself. 

"Go on, take your time." 

"I think, well at this point I know, that my feelings for you over the past few years have gotten...stronger...than anticipated." 

Phil stills almost immediately. The hand that had been stroking my arm falls away and for a minute I can't even feel him breathing anymore. I soldier on knowing I have precious few options right now. 

The shaking in my voice grows more prominent the longer I speak and the longer he stays silent as I desperately try to explain myself. By the end even I can't make out what I'm saying anymore. I take a breath and pause a moment. "So, yeah, I don't want to say I love you because that's ridiculous but I most definitely feel like I could." 

Out of words I embrace the silence by focusing on my breathing and not Phil's presence. Finally he shifts; unfortunately, it's away. 

We don't look at each other as we sit side by side for what feels like hours. The anime title screen plays lightly in the background until I turn it off. My stomach growls once, maybe twice, but I don't feel hungry. Eventually Phil speaks softly but insistently. 

"It was brave of you to tell me this, and I love you too, but you're my best friend Dan: only my best friend. If I've done or said anything to make you think otherwise, I'm so sorry, but I couldn't ever see you as anything more than a brother. Maybe living together and so close has gotten you confused, maybe you just need to get out and meet new people." The end is weak - barely an attempt at a solution to a problem neither of us can understand. I listen numbly as he speaks more and more just wishing he would shut up. 

"No, no, you're right." Cutting him off. I stand abruptly. "It's being close, it's doing the tour, it's spending so much time together. I met you when I was you 18 and from then on you were practically my life. I guess through it all I just got...attached. We need space so I'm going to go for a walk. Clear my head. Call some people." I chuckle hoping to seem ok so he won't try and follow me. His face is dark but he nods and let's me go. I rush out of the front door into warm rain but don't bother turning back around to get a jacket. I leave my phone. 

Walking aimlessly around London I begin to calculate the costs of moving out and getting my own place; walking with purpose I direct my feet towards homes of friends that have red circles in calendars, friends I know would help me breath again. Quite frankly it feels like my world is ending and my heart has stopped beating: but my legs still work and I manage to make it to Louise's house before dark. She answers the door on the first knock, a little surprised to see me but instantly understanding fills her gaze. She lets me crash on her couch that night, and she doesn't make me call Phil, she agrees to do it instead. Luckily Darcy is with her father so we stay up later than we should and look up apartment listings around London. I'm not used to shopping with such a large budget - the places we find within my price range are huge and empty; too big for two people let alone just one. 

Throughout the night I make comments about things Phil would or wouldn't like about different places. Louise will correctly me quietly and quickly - or I'll correct myself. It was a habit I know won't be broken easily; when you've lived with someone as long we have it's difficult to go back to being alone. 

I spend the week bouncing from house to house, mooching off of different friends with different calendars all with the same red circle. I go back to the flat only twice in the week when I have confirmation Phil will be out. I got my phone and packed a bag full of clothes and necessities. I left a note, a very long note, to Phil covering the basics of where I will be and why I feel the need to leave. I briefly explain that it was the space we need, I need, to get all the silly feelings sorted out so we could get back to normal. I leave out the fact that I was merely preparing for a more permanent move out. 

Unlike Phil, I don't think space would be a solution but rather a catalyst for even more emotion. Absence makes the heart grow fonder after all. What needs to happen is change: an introduction of someone new to replace the hole Phil would inevitably leave. I find a place by the end of the week - I find a new roommate soon after. 

It isn't long before my old key is opening my old door and my old roommate is standing before me, livid. He can only choke out half formed words and sentences, throwing them like spears that fall short of actual harm. I brush past with no malice just impatience to make it through the door; he follows like a dog without a leash. 

"I'm sorry." He doesn't listen.   
"I'm sorry." More force this time.  
"I'M SORRY!" A shout. I lash out and he freezes in front of me. "I know you're upset. God, I fucked up, I get it. I went for a walk, I left my phone, I avoided you when we need to talk. I did everything I shouldn't have, but what is there to say? I've been looking for apartments, Phil, because this is too much for me right now. I've loved you for years and years and it's ok - it's ok that you don't but I have to leave anyway. You're my best friend and that's all you'll ever be so I need some time to be Dan, and not Dan and Phil, but just Dan." At this point I'm rambling and Phil is staring and the walls are closing in on us both. 

"Ok." It's barely a whisper, a word let out in a breath exhaled, but he gets it. He hears me and just like always he understands me; I'll always be grateful for how much and how well he understands me. 

We spend the next week packing all of my stuff into boxes. It's good for us both. In between packing we talk and we explain and we heal. I begin to wonder if my decision to move out was rash and hasty and, quite frankly, wrong - but the night before I feel calm. 

All of our friends come over to help load the moving vans and we pile ourselves into 3 taxis that ferry us away to my new place. Phil and I grab a taxi to ourselves and though we spend most of the ride in silence the goodbye hangs heavy in the air. My flat is overly spacious, my roommate bailed last minute but I decided I could try and make it on my own for a little while. I could afford the rent with little difficulty and the place was nice. 

We unload boxes for what feels like hours then spend the next few eating pizza and laughing together. I get many loud congratulations while Phil gets many silent are you ok's. It seems unfair and a little backwards but I pretend I don't see him get pulled off to the side by a new person each time. One by one they all leave and finally it's just he and I alone again. He shuffles his feet, offers to help me start setting up, I turn him down gently but sternly. He sticks around anyway. 

"Nice place."   
"Thanks."   
"Lots of room."  
"I know."   
"I'm going to miss you."   
"I'll miss you too."   
"You didn't have to leave me."   
"This isn't about you." 

We face off across boxes he stubbornly refused to leave alone. Unpacking is forgotten by us both as anger floods our veins. I want to yell at him that if he wasn't so selfish maybe I could still be in our flat, maybe things would still be different but in my way, a good way. If he had just decided to love me back I wouldn't be here but I'm the selfish one for even thinking that; so I stay silent in a passive attempt to make him speak. 

"It isn't about you, or me, it's about us."  
"There is no us you said so yourself."   
"Just because it isn't the us you want doesn't mean there isn't an us at all."  
"You're right, I forgot, we still have our brand." 

I've never tasted anything so bitter as the words that are flooding my mouth and mind - never being one for the taste I gag almost reflexively. 

"Not the brand, forget the brand. Did you forget we were friends once? Or maybe we were never friends at all. Maybe you've always just considered me to be a possible lay, is that what it is?"   
"No."   
"Why are you so angry?"   
"Because how else can I convince myself that living on my own is a good idea? How else can I remind myself that I was alone once before you and I can do it again? I have to be angry because being angry at you is a cleaner break than being friends, Phil, and I need a break." 

It's dark when he leaves, "it doesn't have to be like this" floating somewhere in the back of both of our minds, hovering in the silence and space between us, dropping to the floor with the sound of the door swinging shut. From the window I watch him hail a cab in the rain - lazily I trace his cab with my eyes until it finally disappears out of sight. 

I'm convinced that if you open my chest to look for my heart you wouldn't find it; rather you'd have to chase down the cab that I watched drive away if you wanted to get it back. Losing your heart is a fairly easy process given the pain it causes when the person who took it won't give theirs back. In the end, you're down a heart while they're up two, and there's a reason people only had one to begin with. 

I go to sleep that night with the help of some self medication in the form of a bottle of "you bought a house" wine. I drink half and save half for tomorrow before passing out on the couch in front of some mindless sitcom. I consider putting on the anime we had playing that morning, given how invested in the story I had been, but the sound of the opening credits almost makes me vomit. Never being one for spoilers I avoid looking up the end until I'm absolutely certain I'll never be able to watch it again. 

Phil and I don't see each other for a month at least. In that month I become a hermit, emerge back into the social world, meet a new guy, and start a new gaming channel to replace the one we lost. At the end of the month, I call Phil, and he answers on the first ring. 

"Dan?" A warm tone, voice light, relieved to have finally heard from me. Relieved maybe to not have been the one to break the silence between us.   
"Want to grab some coffee? Catch up?" 

We make plans to meet at Starbucks the next day, to collab afterwards, and when it's all said and done we make plans to do it all again.


End file.
